Are you an unpacker? Or someone who lives out of a suitcase?
I definitely consider myself as someone who falls into the second category. I rarely stay anywhere long enough to seriously consider unpacking. Moreover, I always pack my suitcase with such meticulous precision, that I can find anything within it as easily as if it were all hung out in a wardrobe. Additionally, I have a fear of losing things. The more items, which gain the freedom of my suitcase’s confines, the more likelihood that something will go missing. Or so I reason.
The only time I may make an exception to this rule will occur roughly halfway through any trip, and when the top of my case is increasingly full of dirty clothes and I am forced to mine ever deeper for anything clean to wear. Then, and only then, I may have a one-off total repack: dirty to the bottom; clean to the top. A pragmatic rule, strictly adhered to.
Except…
On my most recent travels to Ireland, something happened that made me question my strategy.
I was staying in Letterkenny, County Donegal. Staying at Dillons Hotel. Only stopping over for two nights. Surely not enough time to justify unpacking my suitcase?
Except…
When I was checking-in, the receptionist, a kindly soul, offered me a free upgrade to my room: “A bigger bed, and a walk-in shower,” she said.
What she didn’t say was that the upgraded room had an entire walk-in wardrobe attached, too. Wardrobe? It was an entirely separate room. I’ve stayed in smaller bedrooms than this wardrobe––every time I stay in Paris, in fact. It went against all my unpacking principles, but it seemed rather churlish not to make use of all this unexpected extra space.

What should I do?
In the end, habit won out. I still didn’t unpack my suitcase; used not an inch of the extra storage in my upgraded room. In fact, the wardrobe just became some fresh scary space, which I had to check every night, to make sure there were no intruders lurking there before I went to sleep.
© E. C. Glendenny

E. C. Glendenny prefers the simple life.
